


Sharp Dressed Man

by adorbstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Don't trust random internet strangers, Fluff, M/M, Man Points, Mutual Pining, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tuxedos, but still trust me on this one, hand holding, i swear it's cute y'all just trust me, kind of, make way! Here comes fluff, they both love each other but they're both also numbskulls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 04:36:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11661753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorbstiel/pseuds/adorbstiel
Summary: Tuxedos.Fluff.Handholding.Kickass summary.





	Sharp Dressed Man

Dean is nervous, because this is just not his scene. He's gotten used to wearing the monkey suits, but he's infinitely more comfortable in a button-up and t-shirt or a henley and a good pair of jeans. Not this. He's only had to suffer through wearing something this stuffy once before, trying to get his hands on... a hand of glory. He hoped he'd never have to go through rubbing shoulders with classist asshats ever again, but of course vengeful spirits don't care about personal preferences like that, so here Dean stands. In a tuxedo.

On top of that, Cas's experiences with humanity have always revolved around the Winchesters. These upscale events go over all of their heads, but especially Cas. Dean is worried the angel won't know how to even pretend to be classy. Just another bulletpoint on his list of concerns.

Dean calls into the slightly stale motel air, "Hurry up Cas! It won't look good if we're late to this shindig." 

"...Dean, I'm uncomfortable in this sort of tie," is Cas's response. When he walks out of the bathroom, Dean sees he's all decked out. Bow tie, pleated front shirt, shined shoes, the whole nine yards. His hair is combed, but free of product; just begging to be mussed by roaming fingers. He's even holding a cummerbund in one hand. "And I don't even know what this is supposed to be for."

"Those are... where did you even get that? Did it come with your rental?" Dean asks. "Mine doesn't have one."

"Yes, it was in the garment bag. The shop owner told me the color would make my eyes 'pop'" - Dean suppresses an eye roll as Cas makes air quotes with his fingers, but does notice the color of the fabric is almost exactly the deep, yet somehow also bright blue of Cas's eyes - "and that she suspected that would make my partner very happy." He pauses briefly, squinting slightly into the distance, "Although I'm not sure how she knew we were supposedly FBI agents on a case, or why she thought the color of my eyes would affect the outcome of it or your opinion on any part of the 'shindig'." 

Dean tilts his head to the ceiling, examining a water stain there to cover up the second eye roll he couldn't fight back. "She must have just uh, misinterpreted the situation, Cas. You usually only see dudes wear those sash things at... um. Weddings." He looks back down again, fiddling with his cuff links. 

Cas, slightly unsure as to why Dean is fidgeting, says, "I see." He doesn't. "I'll just leave it here, then." He lays the cummerbund back down across the garment bag on the bed. "Does it look alright without it?"

Dean uses the question as an excuse to further examine Cas's appearance. He looks... good. Put together. Even this rented tux that isn't tailored to him fits Castiel better than the baggy suit he wears day in and day out. 

The jacket has a satin shawl lapel that matches the side seam stripe of Cas's trousers, and the pleated front shirt has a wing collar that directs all of Dean's attention to the column of Cas's neck. 

Dean realizes he's just been staring, not answering Cas's question. 

"Dean?" Cas says, "If it looks bad, I'd appreciate it if you told me." He sounds self-conscious, which is new to Dean. He doesn't think he's ever heard Cas sound unsure of his appearance before. 

Dean wants to say something. Anything. But he's still just staring. He doesn't know how to put into words what he wants to say. Because how do you tell your totally-platonic best friend that they look like the most stunning thing you've ever seen? You don't. You don't tell them that. So, eloquent as ever, Dean says, "Um," and looks away. 

Dean can hear resignation in Cas's voice as he says, "Maybe you should go alone, then. Or I can take Sam's place at the library and he can go with you to the-"

Dean looks back to Cas and says, "No!" Cas looks mildly startled. Maybe that was louder than Dean meant to be. "Uh, no. I just..."

Cas looks concerned, but expectant. He's waiting for Dean to explain himself, and the irony is not lost on him that Dean is now the one holding them up. "You just what, Dean?"

"I think you... you look good, Cas. Real nice." And great, Dean thinks he's blushing. Shit. 

Cas huffs, exasperated "I don't appre-" but when he looks at Dean and sees the look on his face, really sees it, he stops short. 

Dean didn't call him buddy, or make a crack after his compliment. He doesn't have a shit-eating grin on his face; in fact, Dean's gone back to not even looking Cas in the eye. It dawns on him that Dean means what he's saying now, and is slightly embarrassed by it. But why- ...oh. 

Cas himself blushes then, just a little. He looks down at his outfit, pulling slightly on the lapels of his jacket, and takes a second look at himself. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat and says, "Thank you, Dean. You look," he swallows, hoping he's not misreading, "very handsome, yourself."

Dean doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry. He should know by now Cas can read him like a book. He's always been able to. 

Dean rubs the back of his neck and looks Cas right in the eye. "Yeah. I, uh. I mean, thanks." He smiles. 

Cas smiles back. 

They stand there for a second, staring at each other and smiling softly like idiots. "We uh," Dean starts, "we should get going. Won't make a good first impression if we're late."

"As you've said," Cas replies.

"Right," Dean says, not responding to anything in particular. He turns and walks toward the door of the motel room and opens it, but then remembers, "Oh wait, we need the-" he turns around but stops abruptly, face-to-face with Cas. He's holding Dean's car keys in his hand, the slightest of smirks on his face. "Ah, thanks Cas." He plucks the keys from Cas's fingers, and the proximity takes him back to another motel room years ago, when Dean reprimanded Cas in the bathroom for violating his personal space. He doesn't seem to mind so much, this time. "Thanks."

"You said that, already," Cas points out. 

Dean needs to diffuse this situation before he turns it into one. (And since when did Cas get so smooth?) "Um." 'Words, Dean. Words.' he thinks to himself. "Okay, man. Let's go." He claps Cas on the shoulder to regain some Man Points, but loses them immediately when he also gently squeezes Cas's shoulder. Leaving said hand on said shoulder, he steps to the side and gestures with his other arm, "After you." 

For a reason neither of them could probably voice, Cas's hand comes up to gently grip Dean's shoulder as well. "Thank you, Dean," Cas says. He brushes past Dean through the door, but neither of them have removed any hands from any shoulders yet. 

Once Cas slips past Dean in the doorway, his hand moves from Dean's shoulder, only to brush along his chest. Dean has no idea what the hell is going on anymore, so he decides 'to hell with it', and lets his hand run the length of Cas's arm, down to the hand that's starting to pull away from his own chest. 

Cas, who really hadn't managed to get very far away from Dean in the last five seconds, stops all the way and turns back to him. He sees the hesitancy in Dean's eyes, but continues watching as Dean's hand lays atop his. 

Slowly, and aggressively hoping he isn't grossly misreading the situation, turns his hand over so their palms rest against each other. He can feel Dean's heartbeat on the back of his hand. It's erratic, like his own. 

Just as slowly, Dean's fingers slot between Cas's and curl around the back of his angel's hand. Cas brings their hands away from Dean's chest, so they're hanging between the two of them. 

"Let's go, Dean," Cas says. 

They walk to the car, hand in hand. 

They sit in the car, hand in hand. 

They drive to the ritziest hotel either of them have ever seen, hand in hand. 

They interrogate the other guests of the party, hand in hand. 

They don't vanquish the spirit hand in hand, because that's not practical or safe. 

But after the case is solved, and everyone is safe, they end the night slow dancing in the swanky ballroom, tux jackets removed, Cas's face resting on Dean's shoulder. Hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> ***EDIT: HOW DO YOU SPELL CUMMERBUND***
> 
> Basically I just constantly think about the scene in Red Sky at Morning where Dean comes down the staircase looking snazzy as fuck and Bela loses her shit (as much as a British grifter probably could), and how I need Cas to wear a tux and look snazzy as fuck and for Dean to subsequently lose his shit (as in character as would be believable). So. That's what this was? :) Comments and kudos are always appreciated. They give me life. I eat kudos cereal for breakfast but I can't buy kudos at Costco so I need to get them from you guys okay. 
> 
> Also a big thank you to my friends Hannah and Kaela for reading it for me before I posted it. You da bomb(s). :D


End file.
